Chapter 22
Cole
RIGHT WHERE I WANT YOU
Two hours in a car with Ariana and I don’t know how I’m not supposed to touch her after hearing her come. I’m starting to wonder how I’ve survived knowing her this long without touching her. Because apparently that’s all I want to do, and I spent the entire drive talking myself out of it.
She hasn’t worked at Novel in over a week and she still smells more delicious than anything that’s ever come out of that kitchen. The inside of my truck has been infiltrated by her scent and I’m kind of hoping it lingers for a while.
The drive was already proving to be difficult, and then I decided to further torture myself by having her read that book aloud.
It had nothing to do with the content—according to her, we hadn’t even reached anything spicy. It was her voice alone, the way she read so eloquently. She sounded like music, wrapped in that Regency-period formality. I couldn’t tell you what it was about, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.
It’s my saving grace when the lake house comes into view through the bare winter trees.
It’s a beautiful house. Big, with a cabin-weathered look that’s still somehow modern, covered in large windows designed to view the water from several angles.
The lake beyond it is gray and still, a thin skin of ice sits over the top.
Cars line the drive. More than I was expecting, and reality sets in a little more. This will be our first time truly performing as a couple, and a lot of the people inside aren’t going to be pleased.
“Here we go,” Ariana says. Her voice is small and full of worry.
I wish I could tell her everything will be fine, but I’m not entirely sure it will be. “Hey.” I reach over and squeeze her hand briefly before letting go. “We’ve got this. We’re a team and I’m not going to let anything bad happen in there. I promise.”
She groans, pressing her head back against the headrest, chin tilted up at the ceiling.
“I hate confrontation and fighting and I just know there’s no way we’re getting through this without it.
Why did you let me think this was a good idea?
They’re going to take one look at us and either kill you or laugh in my face because it’s so unbelievable it’s obviously a prank. ”
“Stop.” I capture her shaking hands. “Stop freaking out. I’ll do everything I can to get past the bumpy parts fast. Believe it or not, I’m actually friends with your brothers. It’s not like I’m the town pariah. I’ll talk to them. It’ll be fine. Just trust me.”
Her blue eyes meet mine, glossy with unshed tears.
I’m not someone who feels emotions easily.
Years spent being the one forced to hold it together so everyone else could fall apart has left my heart calloused, numbing me to it all.
But watching Ariana try her hardest not to cry breaks something open in me I didn’t know was still capable of breaking.
My first instinct is to kiss her, which I can’t. I want to kiss all these ridiculous fears away, sweep my tongue to hers until she’s lost in me. Our relationship is fake, but this need to take care of her isn’t.
I don’t trust myself to say the right words. But I know how to show it—I just can’t show it the way I would like to. But I refuse to let her face this alone. Whatever is waiting for us in there will have to get through me before I ever let it get to her.
I’m firmly team Ariana, and I’ll be damned if she walks into that gauntlet without me.
I want to say something that will actually help, but nothing feels good enough. Instead I stay holding her hands until the shaking slows.
Eventually she starts to slip out of my grasp.
“Let’s get this over with.” She groans, tugging her knit hat down over her ears.
I climb out and come around to her side before she can open her own door, which earns me a look.
“What are you doing?”
“Being a good boyfriend.” I hold the door. “Get out of the truck, Ariana.”
She gets out, pulling her pink peacoat around her. She looks beautiful, and my eyes linger long enough to get caught. I make myself stop before I freak her out even more.
Grabbing her hand, I intertwine it with mine, and she startles slightly at the contact, looking down at our joined hands before meeting my gaze.
“We have to look the part, right?” I say, because that’s an explanation she’ll accept right now.
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t let go as we walk up the porch steps.
The front door is unlocked and we walk in without knocking, which maybe I should have thought through more carefully because the room is full and loud and then very suddenly not loud at all.
I clock them in sequence. Ethan first—since he’s the one most likely to be a problem. His face immediately hardens. Gavin is beside him, eyes wide, fork frozen halfway to his mouth, completely still. Shane is already moving to stand beside his brothers, his stare the most menacing of the three.
The women look considerably less hostile. Maybe even a little pleased.
“What the fuck is this? Why is he here?” Shane asks.
Ariana’s hand tightens around mine. “You guys remember Cole,” she says with a false brightness.
“Hey, everyone.” I nod around the room, trying to look easy and unbothered even though this might be the most tense room I’ve ever walked into.
I slide my arm around Ariana and pull her into my side because she needs something solid right now and because it’s what a boyfriend would do and because—if I’m being honest—I feel better touching her.
“Can someone explain what the fuck this is?” Ethan grits. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Ariana laughs, shaking beside me. “Cole is my b-b-boyfriend.”
Everyone starts talking at once, noise over noise, with nothing I can discernibly pick out.
I let it go for about fifteen seconds. Long enough to be respectful of the fact that they’re surprised. But also long enough for Ariana’s breathing to go shallow against my side like their words are physically taking the fight out of her. And I don’t fucking like that one bit.
“Listen.” I put enough authority into my voice to cut through everyone.
“I get that some of you aren’t thrilled to see me with your sister.
But if you’ve got a problem, you can take it up with me.
Leave her out of it. She doesn’t need you all screaming at her because of me, and I’m not going to stand by while she’s treated like she’s incapable of making her own decisions without running them past you for a vote. Understood?”
Ariana’s head lifts and she looks up at me, wide-eyed and stunned. I hope she didn’t think I’d let them eat her alive. No fucking way am I standing by while they pick her apart.
The room goes quiet enough to hear the ceiling fan, the faint sound of water against the shore outside.
Before Ethan can recover enough to say whatever is sitting behind his jaw, Scottie steps forward, ever the gracious host. She pulls Ariana into a hug, whispers something in her ear I don’t catch, but whatever it is seems to take some of the tension out of her shoulders.
Then she turns to me with a brief hug before waving us to follow her.
“Come on, I’ll show you your room.”
We trail behind her, past the mob. Shane is shaking his head at me like we’re about to face off in a fight and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
He’s got a way worse reputation than me.
Talk about pot calling the kettle black.
Nora would’ve never, but if she’d ever brought Shane home I would’ve lost my mind, so I guess I get it.
“Okay, here we are.” Scottie points to a decently sized room with a king-size bed at the center.
“It’s kind of funny—this is the room Gavin and I stayed in when he was trying to buy the house.
” She directs her attention at me. “And the best part is, it’s the furthest from everyone else so you can’t hear a thing.
” She smiles a wicked little smile before shooting a wink at Ariana and wandering back to the living room.
I really wish she hadn’t said any of that, because now I’m interested in testing out how true it was.
I must have a death wish—or a kink for danger—because tell me why my dick is twitching at the thought of getting Ariana off in a house full of her family. And honestly, part of me is hoping they hear it.
Might have to start going to therapy again just to unpack that one.
“Well, that was not great.” Ariana walks further into the room, shoulders slumped.
She proceeds to peel off her coat and hat, and my brain starts to get fuzzy watching her.
There’s a sliver of her waist showing before she tugs her pants back into place, and the way her tits are spilling out over the top of her buttons makes it nearly impossible to form a coherent thought with a bed between us.
The only reason I stop my appreciative perusal of her body is because Ariana is staring at the bed in horror.
“What’s wrong?”
“The bed,” she says quietly. “We’re going to have to share a bed.”
My gaze narrows on her. “Yeah,” I say slowly. “Kind of what happens when you’re a couple staying at someone’s house. Did you think we’d be in bunk beds?”
Her face is crimson, I can practically see the rapid pulse jutting out of her neck. “I don’t know.” She sounds exasperated. “I’ve never brought a guy to something like this. I didn’t think about it, I guess.”
I know she’s freaking out because she didn’t account for this situation, but I can’t help taking it slightly personally. Am I that repulsive to her, she can’t fathom sharing a bed that’s more than big enough for the two of us for one night? Or am I overreacting?
Not to be cocky, but women usually throw themselves at me. I’ve never really had to put effort in for someone to like me. I’ve definitely never had to convince a woman to share a bed with me.
“It’s a king bed. I could put a pillow between us and we’d still have room to spare.”
“I know that,” she says, still staring at it.